Blind
by Coquettishness
Summary: Written for the Fandom Gives Back charity auction. After Bella is turned into a vampire, her perfect marriage to Edward falls apart. But as time passes, their eyes begin to clear and their paths realign. Complete.


**Author's Note: **This story was written for buried_alive55 for the Fandom Gives Back charity auction.

**Her Requested Story: **Edward falls out of love with Bella after her transformation. She's not the same girl who captured his heart. Newborn vampire Bella, with her weakened human memories and bloodlust, is no longer in love with Edward. As Bella adjusts to life as a vegetarian vampire with Edward's help, they rediscover their love as they get to know each other.

**Time Period: **This story is AU from _Eclipse_. Edward and Bella married as planned, and Bella had her "real honeymoon" as a human. (No Nessie.) Edward fulfilled his promise to change Bella into a vampire about three months after their wedding. This story takes place on their first wedding anniversary, nine months after Bella was changed into a vampire. Edward's POV.

***

**Blind**  
Written by Coquette

Alice's hand was light upon the crook of my elbow, the weight almost imperceptible as her fingers curled around the folds of my jacket. Delicate, lovely, and entirely unnecessary.

_This trip will be good for both of you, _she said to me through her thoughts. _If you stop being so stubborn, that is. Wait, what am I saying? You're never going to stop, so the whole weekend should prove to be just awful. _

The tone of my sister's thoughts was light and teasing, but I wasn't in the mood. Letting an impatient breath escape through my teeth, I turned my face away and said nothing. My gaze passed over Rosalie, and I saw that her stare was laden with ice, her thoughts full of annoyance that Alice and I were again having a silent conversation no one else could hear or take part in. But since Alice was in essence "talking" to herself, Rosalie had little to feel slighted over.

Though I was trying my best to pretend I was alone, in reality I was surrounded by my four siblings, like a prisoner that needed to be guarded against an attempt to escape. Alice sat beside me on the hood of my car, while Rosalie, Jasper, and Emmett stood in a semicircle around us, arms crossed over their chests. It was ridiculous. I wished that I hadn't known why they were hovering so close, but their thoughts were particularly pointed at that moment. Subtlety had gone by the wayside in favor of "fixing Edward and Bella," as they called it in private conversations – though really, when were conversations actually "private" when I was in the vicinity?

The tone and direction of their thoughts bothered me, but I said nothing to acknowledge anything I overheard. That would only validate their thoughts and leave room for a conversation I did not want to have. My siblings needed to mind their own damn business and understand that some things were too broken to ever be put back together again.

Carlisle and Esme were upstairs in the house with Bella, comforting and coaxing her to come out of her room and down to the car. I couldn't blame her for her reluctance. She didn't want to go on this trip anymore than I did, but according to my family, a first wedding anniversary was something to celebrate. They'd booked us a small beach cabin up north, past the border into Canada, hoping that throwing the two of us in an enclosed space together might force us to work some things out. Their logic was profoundly flawed, but there was little that could be done to dissuade them. I was too heartsick to try.

Though I wasn't looking directly at Alice, I saw in my periphery as a smile curled upon her lips. I also saw my own sullen profile in her mind, reflected back at me like a mirror.

_That was supposed to be funny, Edward. You know, something to make you smile? You_ do _remember how to smile, don't you? I remember... _

Memories of my wedding day flashed through her mind – the white curve of Bella's hand resting in my own as we exchanged vows, the blush warming her cheeks and the patch of skin beneath her collarbone, my throat constricting, engulfed with flames as I leaned down to kiss my beautiful human bride.

Alice sighed and rested her cheek on my shoulder, her mind shifting to other things.

A red-eyed newborn, a veritable stranger wearing the face and body of _my Bella_, taking flight from the house and into the forest like a wraith. Frightfully beautiful but in a way I couldn't bear to look at. She was guilt and pain embodied in loveliness. Screams echoed through Alice's memories, and I saw myself pulling Bella away from a hiker's throat, wrestling her to the ground as she snapped at my neck.

Alice's eyes fluttered shut, and her fingers tightened on the sleeve of my jacket, not so delicate anymore. "Sorry," she whispered. "Didn't mean to let my mind go there."

In front of us, Jasper cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak, though Alice and I both knew what he was going to say. "Should I...?"

"No," I snapped at the same time that Alice said, "Please do."

My sister and I exchanged a look. While I glared down at her, she beamed hopefully up at me. Infuriating, the whole lot of them.

"What are you all talking about?" Rosalie asked. "Can someone interpret for those of us without enhanced abilities?"

A smile pulled at the corner of Jasper's mouth. "I was going to offer to help Edward's mood. Maybe loosen him up a bit before his trip. But I'm afraid it would fade quickly once they leave the house. Just a temporary fix."

"Well, _I_ know what would help his mood," said Emmett, grinning as he slid his arm around Rosalie's shoulders. "No special powers required."

My eyes drifted shut. "Emmett? Don't."

He didn't listen, of course. "I don't think you really understand how this marriage thing works. For one, you don't have sex with your wife," he explained with far too much volume for my taste. "I mean, sex is great, Edward. Sex helps you lighten up, forget all the stupid, serious stuff, and just enjoy your mate. You're married to the girl, she's pretty, and you're not gonna break her. So what's the problem? Swab out your brain already. You're being an idiot."

"That's very profound, Emmett," I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I thank you."

"You should thank me. You think you're so damn smart, but you sure can be thick sometimes." Emmett's grin widened. "Not that I don't love you. I just wanna throw you into a brick wall every now and then."

"Don't we all?" said Rosalie as she inspected her cuticles.

Nods all around.

Alice tugged at my arm. "Bella's coming down soon. Now stop moping and listen to me. We all love you very much, but while you're older than some of us, you need to realize that we all have far more experience with marriage than you do. Do you see that lovely, lovely man I'm married to, standing right there? I adore him. I would have his babies if I could. But we don't always see eye-to-eye. Right, Jasper?"

Jasper blinked at his wife calmly. "You're _always_ right, Alice."

She made an impatient sound and turned on him. "Stop being ironic."

Jasper smiled. "I think what Alice is trying to say, Edward, is that couples have disagreements and dry spells, no matter how much they love each other. I know that you think you're not in love with Bella anymore..."

I stared at the ground, wanting nothing more than for this conversation to be over and done with.

"I can feel your doubt in that area," Jasper continued, not letting up. "But I can also feel that you still love Bella. You're just choosing not to see it."

I didn't speak for several long moments. Then, quietly, I managed, "You're right about one thing. I do love Bella. Or rather, I love _my Bella_. But she's gone now. The difference here is that all of you are still the same people you were when you married each other. The Bella I'm married to now isn't the same girl I married a year ago. She doesn't remember what we had or who she used to be. She doesn't even remember _me_. That Bella – _my Bella_ – is dead. I took her life."

Rosalie's thoughts flared angrily at my words. From the first day Bella had woken up as a vampire and I'd spiraled down into grief, Rosalie had taken the entire situation quite personally. She'd never made a secret of the fact that she disapproved of turning Bella. It was one of the few times the two of us had seen eye-to-eye on something. There was jealousy involved in her prejudices, but there was also a great deal of protectiveness of Bella's humanity there as well. Now that Bella's life was wasted, there was mostly just anger. Rosalie's protectiveness had instead shifted to my marriage. Weddings and vows in general were a very touchy subject with her – something she treasured. The very idea that our marriage was on the rocks infuriated her.

"Edward Cullen," she hissed, her eyes bright with anger. "You are a _fool_."

I could have bitten back – I certainly had enough material to choose from – but she had a point. Since there was no sense in arguing with truth, I merely nodded in agreement. I _was_ a fool for ever agreeing to sacrifice my wife's soul for the convenience of immortality.

Even my nod displeased Rosalie. Throwing up her hands, she left the group and marched toward the woods, her thoughts directed at finding something to kill.

Emmett's smirk came into focus as he put his face in my line of vision. "Now pay close attention, Edward. This is what you do when your wife is upset. Take notes." Then he saluted and followed after Rosalie in order to comfort her. As I watched his retreating form, I envied his easygoing nature and unblinking devotion to his wife. Life would be much happier and simpler if I were more like Emmett. Sometimes I felt as though I thought too much, but since change did not come to me easily, there was little to be done about it. And really, wasn't that the cause of this whole mess? Unwanted change.

"Emmett has a point, you know," said Alice. "You and Bella need to talk about this. You need to pursue her rather than growing more and more distant with her."

Her thoughts turned to a possible future where Bella and I were estranged, living in different houses in different cities and very, very unhappy as the years progressed. Two meaningless existences; empty vessels, as it were.

"Are you implying I would leave her?" I asked quietly.

Alice rolled her eyes and smacked me lightly on the back of the head. "You, of all people, should know I'm not. Stop being dramatic. You know my visions are subjective and changeable. What I'm implying is that you need to stop whining and fix it. If you feel like she's changed, then get to know her again. She's still your Bella."

"No," I said, "she's not."

"I spent a good two hours packing her suitcase this morning," pressed Alice. "Designer handbags. Lingerie from Paris. _Jimmy Choos, Edward. _She took everything out and packed up her jeans and sneakers. Trust me – she's still Bella."

I opened my mouth to argue, but Jasper spoke up before I had the chance. "Easy now," he said. "They're coming out."

Jasper and Alice both looked toward the house and smiled welcomingly as Carlisle, Esme, and Bella approached the car.

I didn't.

_Stop being stubborn, _Alice said silently, her hand tightening on my forearm. _Look at her, Edward. That's your wife. Your mate. She's still the same girl. Yes, there are differences, but if you think about it, they've always been part of her. They've just recently been brought to light. You've always been so resistant to change. Don't punish or resent her for wanting this change, and don't punish yourself because you feel guilty for allowing it. _

Alice's thoughts nagged at me, even after her mind turned elsewhere. Was I punishing Bella for changing? Punishing myself made sense, but what had she done wrong in all of this? She was a victim of my weakness and little else.

When I finally found the courage to look up, my eyes went right to her, drawn like a magnet to her beauty. There was no denying she was breathtaking, but she's always been that way to me, even as a human. This flawless thing before me wasn't quite the stranger she had been when she'd first woken up as a vampire. Something of a friendship existed between the two of us, but it hurt to look at her all the same, as if a sharp object was slowly being twisted into my heart.

Flanked by Carlisle and Esme, Bella headed straight for the car, but her head was ducked down to avoid my gaze. Ever the Southern gentleman, Jasper stepped forward to help her with her overnight bag, though Bella was more than strong enough to handle it herself. "I've got it," she said quietly, lifting the bag up and into the trunk. "Thanks, Jasper." Her eyes darted to my face for a split second, then away again. "Are you ready to leave?"

I nodded and slid a hand in my jacket pocket in search of my keys. Guilt weighed heavily in my heart when I realized I could barely bring myself to speak to my own wife. And here I was fancying us _friends_. Alice was right; I _was_ punishing Bella. But as angry as I was at myself, she didn't deserve coldness from me. Especially today of all days, the anniversary of the marriage vows I'd made to her. I'd try to be as pleasant as possible on our trip, for her sake.

Finding the passenger door unlocked, Bella opened it and placed her backpack inside. After kissing Esme and Alice on the cheek, she shut herself in and set about preparing herself for the long ride.

I didn't move toward the driver's side because certain members of my family seemingly weren't ready to let me go yet. Esme approached first, her compassionate eyes burning into me. "Edward..."

I swallowed and my chin dropped a little. I couldn't bring myself hurt Esme in any way, so it was probably best that I just leave. I pulled my arm away from Alice's, taking care not to be abrupt so that her feelings wouldn't be hurt. "I already know what you're going to say."

Esme didn't give up. "I bet it's a lot easier to ignore things in your head than it is to hear them spoken out loud. I think you're used to pushing aside thoughts, but I like to think I'm a little more difficult to ignore." She stepped closer, reached out her hand, and smoothed my hair back. It felt nice, but I couldn't relax into the caress. "Take care of her, Edward," she said. "She's more fragile than you realize. And take care of yourself. I'm worried about you."

I held back the scoff only because I knew it would hurt Esme. "Don't worry about me, mom. And yes, I promise to take good care of her. We'll be home tomorrow night. I love you." Fingers tightening around the keys, I turned toward the car.

"Edward."

I stopped immediately. It was Carlisle that had spoken my name. Of all the members of my family, his words were the ones I wanted to avoid the most. Very few times in my life had my father felt the need to chastise me, but it had happened before, though only when he felt I was going down the wrong path. Even then, he let me make mistakes and was there when I came back around. I knew he was right, but I wasn't ready to face that truth.

One of my hands was on the door handle as he approached and squeezed my arm. "Happy anniversary, Edward," he said. His tone was warm, his eyes steady as they held my gaze.

But in his mind, I heard him firmly say, _Son, you need to fix this_.

***

We left just in time. Rain droplets began to fall from the heavy clouds above almost as soon as we reached the main road, and I was thankful for the resulting road noise. It afforded us both something to listen to in lieu of actual conversation.

We weren't fighting, nor were either of us angry with the other, but somehow the silence was worse than any argument could have been. I had no ill feelings toward her. She'd done nothing to deserve that, no more than any newborn vampire. She was an agreeable enough companion, quiet as she watched raindrops trek across her window, but she was also a nine-month-old vampire. While she'd learned to control herself for the most part, she still had to be watched carefully around humans. She'd killed before when my guard had been let down. That, too, had been entirely my fault.

As we passed through a small town on our path to the highway, I took notice of a small crowd of humans milling on the street near a restaurant. They laughed and joked, unaware that two killers were in their midst, one of them less in control of her nature than the other. I leaned my elbow against the middle console, my hand relaxed and open to her. She might have taken it as an invitation to hold hands, but really, I just wanted to be able to grab her quickly should she decide to bolt. Either way, she didn't notice my hand at all. Her attention was fixed on the humans. Of course it was. She wanted their blood.

"Be sure to hold your breath," I told her.

Her eyes turned slowly in my direction. They were red-orange, the color of dying autumn leaves. Though I was still unable to read her thoughts, I could tell by her expression that I'd said the wrong thing. "You think I don't know that?" she asked. "It's been months since I slipped up, and it's not like I've ever meant to hurt anyone."

I returned my hand to the steering wheel and applied more pressure to the gas pedal. Despite her words, the sooner I got her away from temptation, the better. "I know," I said, "but even I need to be reminded, now and again."

She didn't reply, though I could sense I'd hurt her feelings. Already I was failing in my quest to make this trip pleasant for her. I was simply no good at this.

I heard the sound of paper turning and noticed for the first time that Bella was reading a book. A quick glimpse revealed the title to me. "_Wuthering Heights_?" I asked, somewhat surprised. "Why are you reading that again? I saw you with it two weeks ago. You have it memorized by now, I'm sure."

Her eyes drifted steadily down the page and onto the next before I'd finished speaking, speed-reading in a way she'd never have managed as a human. She flipped another page and said, "Sometimes I like to remember."

I frowned. "Remember what, exactly?"

Her head turned toward me slightly. "You're not the only person that lost their spouse nine months ago, Edward."

I opened my mouth to say something, then shut it again. What could I possibly say in response to that? Somehow I'd never looked at it from her perspective before, and it took a while to wrap my mind around the concept. I'd always assumed Bella didn't miss our prior relationship the way I had. Her memories of her human days with me were dim, difficult to focus on when her mind was so sharp now – like trying to see through a pane of glass covered in frost, she once told me. She remembered ideas, shapes, ghostly incomplete faces that spoke words too muffled to make out. She'd said once that she didn't remember loving me, but her words now made me think she remembered enough to know she'd lost something. What an unhappy thought.

"I'm sorry, Bella," I said quietly.

She nodded and turned another page. "I know. It's okay."

Her reply puzzled me, and again I wasn't certain what to say to her in response. Silence fell between us as a result, but surprisingly, things weren't as strained as they were before. It was as if a subtle shift had taken place, perhaps brought about by my simple apology and her quiet acceptance of it. All I knew was for the first time since she'd woken up as a newborn, I felt something other than grief and guilt when I looked at her. Instead, I felt rather curious. I wanted to know what she was thinking. Actually, I was desperate to know, just as hungry to understand her thoughts as I had been when I'd first laid eyes on her. If it were possible for a vampire to be driven insane by something, this would probably get me there eventually.

Driving was a simple enough task, even in the rain, requiring little of my attention. I could have turned my thoughts to the scenery unfolding all around us, but instead I found myself watching her out of the corner of my eye. She was so serene and calm as she sat there beside me, and it occurred to me that she was much more relaxed and self-assured now that she was a vampire – whereas before, she'd always been so full of doubt with every human step she took. While I'd found her prior insecurities just as loveable as the rest of her, I was glad she didn't feel so self-conscious anymore. Perhaps some changes weren't as difficult to accept as others.

Bella disrupted my reverie by leaning down and pulling a blanket from her backpack. I narrowed my eyes, recognizing it as the same blanket I used to wrap her in at night when she was human. She used to get so cold when I would hold her as she slept. At first, I thought the memories of those nights had set my throat on fire, but then I realized it was something else entirely that was burning me. Bella's human scent clung to that blanket. It was faint, nearly eradicated by repeated washings, but still detectable to me. I swallowed with difficulty, having forgotten how much her scent used to hurt me. How odd that I'd found myself missing that pain of late. Now I just wanted it to end.

"Why do you have that?" I snapped.

Bella looked at me in surprise, and I saw my hard expression reflected back at me in the mirror of her eyes.

I realized then that my tone had been rather sharp, so I concentrated on softening it. "I mean you don't exactly need it anymore."

She hugged the blanket close, pressing her mouth to the fabric as if it brought her comfort. "I know I don't need it, but I like it. It's soft ... and it smells like you."

_Oh_.

I stared at her for so long that I heard passing drivers wonder if I was going to drift into the wrong lane. She held my gaze until I was forced to look away and straighten the car up on the road. Still, the image of her was burned into my vision – the blanket in her hands and the book in her lap, both items that embodied rather pointed memories us both.

I was starting to think Bella was up to something.

Even if she wasn't, she had my full attention.

***

Most of the rain clouds had moved south by the time we reached our destination, and the sun could be seen hanging low on the western horizon. I guided the car down a steep slope toward the beach to our cabin. It was a rental, a place Rosalie and Emmett had visited before on one of their many honeymoons. The cabin was built right on the sand in a cove nestled between sharper cliffs above, and beyond the mansard roof I could see the rocky shoreline of the Pacific Ocean. Thick woods surrounded us, and though the highway was nearby, few humans lived in the immediate vicinity because the land was difficult to build upon.

I cut the engine and studied the cabin speculatively. Though I'd seen pictures, it was the first time I'd laid eyes on the place in person. There was no denying it was beautiful – in truth, the pictures I'd seen hadn't captured a fraction of its splendor – but it was strange to see a house built upon the sand in such a way, with no sign of a deeper foundation to keep it rooted there. I could almost hear Esme's voice in my head, quoting a verse from the book of Matthew about wise men who built their houses on rock rather than sand. How foolish the designers had been in sacrificing a strong foundation for a convenient location near the water. The cabin wouldn't last many winters in this part of the world, I feared.

"Wow," whispered Bella, drawing me out of my thoughts. "It's so pretty here."

I turned and saw that her eyes were filled with the wonder of the place. She likely had no idea how fragile and temporary that cabin really was. I shook my head in disapproval as I removed the keys from the ignition.

"I need to hunt," I said, my throat still burning from the smell of the blanket in her lap. I opened the door and breathed deeply as the ocean breeze swept into the car. The recent rain made the earth smell fresh and new. Still, the scent from the blanket lingered, and I wanted to find some peace away from it. I turned back toward Bella, eyes hesitant. "Do you...?"

She didn't look at me as she stuffed her things into her backpack. "You don't want me to come."

No, I didn't – but I didn't want to hurt her feelings either. I thought about inviting her along anyway, but I craved a few moments to myself to further clear my head. It wasn't as if we ever hunted together at home. Since her transformation, I rather preferred hunting alone. Seeing her like that ... bothered me.

She showed no sign of anger as she got out of the car and shook her hair out in the wind. The sunlight brought out different colors in her hair – auburn, gold, and even plum – but she hurried into the shade of a nearby tree before I had much opportunity to stare. "I'll get us settled in while you hunt," she said. "The keys are supposed to be under the mat, right?"

I nodded. "I won't go far. You'll call if you need me?"

Bella was nearly to the cabin by the time I was done speaking, but she turned and gave me a smile before she disappeared inside. I noticed that she'd taken an indirect path to the door, saying in the line of shadows that the trees provided. The sunlight was sparse but enough to draw the wrong kind of attention to us should any humans be near. But she knew as well as I did that we were very much alone here.

I stood and watched her until she was safely inside, uncertain what to make of that funny little smile or her evasion to the sunlight. What a curiosity she was.

As I slipped into the shadowy copse, my phone buzzed in the pocket of my jeans. I pulled it out and saw that I'd received a text message from Alice. It read, "Bella stayed out of the sun because she didn't want you to see her skin. Pay attention."

I frowned and reread the message, trying to make sense of it. What was Alice talking about? I'd seen Bella's vampire skin in the sun dozens of times. I started to type out a reply to Alice, asking her for an interpretation, but she must have foreseen my message because another text popped up before I could hit send.

"She's trying to be something she's not anymore," her message read. "For you. Really, it's not that hard to figure out."

That message I read more than once as well. But then I understood, and the knowledge only made me feel guiltier than I already did. Was Bella trying to remind me of how she'd been as a human? Was she trying to be something she wasn't to recapture my affection? God, what had I done to that poor girl?

Furious with myself, I quickened my pace through the forest, but the solitude brought me little comfort. I took chase of a deer after a quarter mile, but it ran slower than I wanted to. I passed it by, snarling at it as I spared its life. But even as I ran faster and faster, thoughts of Bella refused to be left behind. She all but haunted me, keeping pace with me as if she were actually there beside me. And she _should have been there_ by my side, yet I'd left her there with scarcely a second thought. I owed her so much more than I was giving.

After twenty minutes of senseless running, I stopped abruptly and took up pacing instead. It didn't take long to decide to return to her. Forcing myself to stop running away had been half the battle.

"I'm not going to do this to her anymore," I said out loud, kicking a branch out of my way. "She's my wife, and this isn't her fault. It's up to me to do right by her."

But as I took the first step back toward the cabin, another text from Alice came through. "You're on the right track," it read, "but try less self-pity. My eyes are starting to ache from all the rolling."

I growled and shoved my phone back in my pocket. My sister did have a point, though. I always tended toward too more introspection when I should be taking action. For that reason alone, I tried not to think too much as I retraced my steps back to the cabin.

***

It was dark by the time I broke through the line of the trees, and once the cabin came into view, I realized with jolt of fear that I'd left a newborn alone for more than half an hour. What had I been thinking? True, we were isolated here, but if she'd slipped away in my absence, she could already be halfway to town by now. It wouldn't be hard for such an innocent-looking girl to lure a victim into the shadows – if she even bothered to be that tactful. How reckless I'd been to leave her alone when her thirst was yet under control.

I called her name as soon as my feet touched the porch, but when I opened the door, the sight of her on the bed stopped me in my tracks. The first thing that struck me was her beauty, but my awe of that faded quickly when I realized how sad she looked. Curled on her side, she clutched that horribly familiar blanket to her chest, her eyes closed as if she were crying or perhaps trying to sleep. Never mind that it was physically impossible for her to do either of those things. It seemed as though she was trying all the same.

"Bella?" I said, drawing near and sitting on the edge of the bed. "Are you all right? What are you doing in bed?"

She stirred only a little in acknowledgement of my presence. "Resting."

My hand went to her hair and pushed it aside so that I could see her face better. "But you don't need rest anymore, sweetheart."

The endearment slipped from my lips with surprising ease. When she turned to stare up at me with those enormous eyes, I noticed that a familiar knot had formed between her eyebrows, as if she were confused or frustrated with me. For the hundredth time in the last hour, I wished that I knew what she was thinking.

My phone buzzed in my pocket – another text message from Alice, no doubt. She seemed to feel I needed coaching tonight, and loathe as I was to admit it, she'd been helpful thus far. I sighed and drew my phone out of my pocket.

"Can you honestly not see what she's doing?" Alice's message read. "Look at her. Does that position remind you of anything?"

I looked.

And it did remind me of something. It took me back to when she was human, when I would pass each night watching her sleep. Whenever I would join her in bed, I would always find her in the same position of eager expectation – on her side, propped up on her elbow with her knees bent, and wrapped up in that blanket.

I watched now as she propped herself up in that hauntingly familiar way, the curled ends of her hair pooled on the bedspread. She had one hand flat on the mattress like an invitation to me, and I realized that she was wordlessly asking me to lie down with her and hold her the way I used to. It was endearing in a way – and horribly sad in another.

My phone vibrated again, but Bella spoke up before I had a chance to read the message.

"Who keeps texting you?" she asked.

"Alice," I said as I held my thumb down on the phone's power button. "But I think it's time she said goodnight."

Just before the screen went black, another message flashed across the screen: "Hey!!"

Smiling, I set the lifeless phone on the nightstand.

Bella appeared vaguely amused, herself. "Alone at last. You ... didn't hunt?"

I shook my head. "No. I guess you could say my heart wasn't really in it." I paused to shrug out of my jacket, which had gotten wet from residual raindrops falling from the tree branches in the forest. After I set it aside, I returned my hand to her hair, rather liking the way she leaned into my touch. "Do you mind if I lay down with you? Perhaps I'm in need of rest, myself."

The tiniest of smiles touched her eyes, and I was able to return the smile without difficulty. This felt right, I realized. Natural. As though we'd crossed some invisible line of companionship together. Or perhaps she'd been waiting for me to join her on the other side of that line for some time now.

She made room for me on the bed, and after some shifting around, I settled down beside her. Still, she didn't presume to draw near until I said, "Come here, Bella," and pulled her to my chest.

To my surprise, she immediately buried her nose in my shirt and inhaled deeply before relaxing against me. The gesture was so sweet that I couldn't help but lower my face to the top of her head and breathe in her scent as well. It was a relief to infuse my senses with something other than the burning smell of that blanket. Bella's vampire scent was still enough to daze me, but there was nothing painful about it anymore. It wasn't long before I, too, was able to relax.

As I stroked the soft skin of one slender shoulder, my fingertips encountered a row of embroidered beads. It was then that I realized she was wearing a silk nightgown, one that I remembered from our honeymoon a year ago. Once upon a time, I had stripped this same gown off of her almost reverently.

"Why are you wearing this?" I asked quietly.

The knot appeared at her brow again. "You certainly ask a lot of questions."

"Since you evaded that one, do you mind if I ask another? Are you doing all these things to remind me of when you were human?"

She stilled in my arms, and when she offered no reply other than that, I took it as a _yes_.

"Well, that's just no good," I said with a heavy sigh. "I owe you an apology, Bella. I owe you many things, actually, but I suppose I should start there."

"You already apologized in the car," she argued. "And I shouldn't have said all that stuff about 'losing my spouse' in the first place. I know you're trying, Edward."

"I _am_ trying," I said, squeezing her arm as if that would lend some sincerity to my words. "I want to make this right."

She stared up at me, perhaps trying to decide if I meant it or not. "What I want is my husband back. Tell me what I have to do to make that happen, and I'll do it."

I shook my head in frustration. "I hate hearing you say things like that. It seems so trite to tell you something like, 'It's not you. It's me.' But it's true. You haven't done anything wrong, Bella, and you don't have to _do_ anything to make this right. Just be _yourself_."

She pondered my words for a few moments, but I couldn't tell what she made of them. As if to confuse me further, she said, "For the record, I wasn't doing things to remind you of when I was human. I was doing it for me. Do you remember when I told you that my memories were fuzzy? That it was like trying to stare through a pane of glass-"

"-covered in frost," I finished for her. "Of course, I remember."

A hint of bitterness flashed in her eyes before she looked away. "It's so easy for you to remember what we had before, but all I can see is what we have now, which I think you've noticed isn't so great sometimes. My first clear memory is of you grieving for my 'death.'"

I flinched at her words and opened my mouth to speak, but she held a hand up to stop me.

"I'm not finished," she insisted. "I said it was difficult to look at the past, but if I concentrate long enough, I can still piece things together. These old things seem to help me remember." She clutched at the blanket in her lap. "It's why I keep them around. But the more I remember, the more I realize we're never going to be together like that again. I'm not human anymore, Edward. But if you fell in love with me once, is it such a stretch to hope it might happen a second time? I fell in love with you again, after all, even if I am different."

I felt like she had punched me in the stomach. "You love me?"

Her expression turned wistful. "It took a while for me to get there. You did a pretty good job of pushing me away. But once I started looking past all of that ... it's almost like I couldn't help it. Like something inside of me knew you were mine." She blinked and shook her head, as if stirring from a daydream.

I stared at her with my mouth open, uncertain how to respond to her declaration. Perhaps I was in shock, but then again, maybe I was just held silent by the strong conviction that I _did not deserve her_.

She stirred in my arms and suddenly wasn't beside me in the bed anymore. I sat up, disoriented as I watched her toss her copy of _Wuthering Heights_ on the nightstand and head for the door. The sudden absence of her in my arms left me feeling alone and unsettled.

"Where are you going?" I called after her, my voice sounding strangely vulnerable

She hovered in the doorway just long enough to look back with that funny little smile and say, "You told me to be myself, didn't you? I want to run."

And with that, she was gone.

I was on my feet and at the door in an instant, but as I watched the flowing white silk of her nightgown disappear into the forest, I was unable to decide if she'd meant for me to follow or not. Then I heard her silvery laughter echo through the trees, and the sound drew me forward like a siren's call. I stepped through the doorway and followed without any further hesitation.

Whether she wanted me or not was no longer an issue. I was hers, regardless.

***

She could run faster than I'd ever realized – agile, even for a vampire. Though I managed to keep pace, I hung back a ways so that I could observe her. I'd yet to allow myself to study the progress she'd made in the last nine months, and I was stunned to find she'd taken to her newfound nature with ease. Her movements were graceful and adept, a far cry from the feral newborn I'd expected to see. Instead of grief, I felt something akin to pride as I watched her, and slowly it began to sink in that she was happier this way – freer and more comfortable in her own skin than I'd ever witnessed.

A mile out into the woods, her path veered suddenly left. She'd heard the footfalls of a small animal, surprisingly before I'd even heard the sound myself, and she took chase. She meant to hunt, I realized with a sinking feeling. It was one thing to take pride in the sight of her running, but I hadn't hunted with her since that unfortunate incident months ago with the hiker. It had hurt me to see her like that, blinded by her thirst until she didn't recognize wrong from right. I wasn't certain I wanted to witness her kill again, even if it was just an animal. The guilt was too much for me to bear.

Just in front of me, Bella came to an abrupt halt. So focused was I on my worries that I nearly barreled right into her. "What is it?" I asked in confusion. "What's wrong?"

But my question was answered without her having to say a word. The faint scent of humans hit me like a slap to the face, and judging from Bella's expression, she'd picked up on it as well. Wondering where the scent was coming from, I strained my ears against the sounds of the forest and focused in on the thoughts of two humans. I heard other sounds as well – two car engines idling and the low oscillating buzz of a light spinning in circles. Putting the clues together, I surmised that a police officer had pulled a driver over to the side of the nearby highway.

I watched Bella carefully, knowing well that the warm scent pouring from that car might prove to be too much for her control. How sad to think of her in such terms. What if it were Charlie she'd come across. Would she even realize what she'd done if she hurt him?

But Bella didn't move. She only stared in the direction of the highway, her pupils huge and black in the moonlight. Just as I was about to step forward and physically pull her in the opposite direction of the police cruiser, she turned and said, "That reminds me. Charlie called to wish us a happy anniversary this morning. We should call him back later."

My head cocked to the side in surprise. Was that all that had captured her attention? I could hardly believe her capable of such restraint at her age. As she took flight into the forest again, leaving temptation behind, I followed her with even greater interest than I had before, absolutely captivated. What else didn't I know about her? What other things had she learned while I'd been too blind to pay her any attention?

Her pace quickened, and soon she picked up on another scent, one I recognized at once but didn't put a name to in hopes of seeing what she made of it. This animal wasn't often found in our hunting grounds near home, and it was much trickier to catch than our usual prey. I doubted Bella's ability to capture it on the first try, but to my surprise, that was exactly what she did.

The mountain lion barely had time to notice the presence of an attacker before she ended its life. It was quick – a beautiful kill, if such a thing could be considered beautiful. In awe, I watched her stand up straight and wipe her lips almost daintily, not a drop spilled. Perhaps it was my imagination, but she looked somewhat embarrassed.

"Was that a mountain lion?" she asked timidly.

I nodded. "That was an impressive kill, Bella."

"But they're your favorite, aren't they?" she pressed. "I should have saved it for you."

I couldn't help but chuckle, thinking her quite the paradox as she stood over her kill while looking like an angel. "I don't mind sharing."

She sniffed the air tentatively, such a curious little thing. "Is that the ocean I hear over there? Come on. There was a cliff I saw from the cabin, and I want to see it up close."

But I wasn't ready to let her slip away again. The pursuit had gone on too long, and I wanted to stop and talk to her — to ask her things, like where she'd learned to hunt with such skill. It certainly hadn't been from me. Had my family been coaching her without my knowledge, or was she simply a natural?

"Bella, wait," I called, but it was too late. She'd taken off again.

"This way!" she called back to me, her voice growing more distant by the second.

I had little choice but to follow.

***

I caught up with her at the edge of the cliff she'd spoken of and could see why she'd been interested in finding it. It overlooked the ocean, which was alight with the moon's blinding reflection, like churning mirror that stretched into nothing. Still, as beautiful as it was, the view was the furthest thing from my mind.

Bella's nightgown was transparent in the moonlight. "I've never seen so many stars before," she said. "Have you ever seen anything so beautiful in your life?"

I was looking at her, not the stars, but I shook my head all the same.

She stepped up onto a rock at the precipice of the cliff and lifted her arms into the air, perhaps imagining that she were flying or something equally as fanciful. The silk of her gown clung to her pale form like the wisps of a specter, and when she turned back to smile at me, her body blocked the blinding moon from my vision like an eclipse. I blinked and rubbed my eyes to reorient them before I could look at her again, and it was suddenly as if my vision had cleared – like I'd been trying to see past sunspots that had left their mark on my eyes. All I could see now was _her_.

When I realized she'd stepped closer to the edge, I whispered, "What are you doing?"

But of course, I already knew. I was beginning to understand the finer aspects of my wife's personality. She had done this sort of thing before, after all. She must have realized the question was rhetorical because she only lifted her eyebrows and said, "Coming?" Then she grinned and leaped from the cliff.

It was difficult to fight off the panic.

Though deep down, I knew she wouldn't be hurt by falling a few hundred feet into the water, watching her jump was absolutely terrifying. But I stood there and remained calm while she did so. It was a moment of acceptance – of letting go and coming to terms. Bella wasn't fragile anymore. More than that, she was full of the very life I'd thought I'd robbed her of.

I stepped to the edge of the cliff and gazed down at the churning sea. Bella's head had popped up amidst the waves. She was laughing, and when she spotted me watching her from above, she waved and again asked if I was coming.

I kicked off my shoes at once, no longer content to watch her from a distance. My belt joined my shoes on the ground, soon followed by my shirt. But when I leapt from that precipice, I knew that I'd left more than mere possessions behind.

The frigid water was invigorating, like a shock of life back into my dulled senses. It was natural for Bella and I to swim toward each other, and when we drew near, we reached out and clung to each other. The water was rough this close to the rocks, and more than once, a wave crashed over our heads and pushed us deep beneath the surface. No human would survive these seas, but Bella only laughed each time she resurfaced and held onto me tighter.

I guided us steadily toward the shore, trying to pay attention to the swell of incoming waves but really only aware of how close her lips were to mine – soft and beaded with droplets of water. Had it really been nine months since I'd last kissed her? My feet soon struck sand, but as I led us toward the shore, Bella's arms tightened around my neck. She seemed reluctant to let me go, even when the water became shallower and her own feet were able touch the ground. She moved her face closer to mine, but though I leaned forward to meet her halfway, she only let her arms slide away from my neck.

"Do you want to kiss me?" she asked, reading my thoughts quite accurately.

I swallowed, my stomach twisting into knots as I stared down at her. "Yes."

"Hmm. I think you might have to catch me first."

Admittedly, she'd rendered me a bit dim-witted with her question about the kiss, and by the time I'd made sense of her reply, she had already run all the way back to shore. I took chase at once, and we both kicked up great waves of sand in our wake. I didn't try very hard to catch her (mostly because I enjoyed the pursuit), and she didn't try very hard to elude me (probably because she was keen on the idea of being caught). It didn't matter either way. We both knew how this would end.

I finally tackled her on the beach, and we collapsed to the ground, laughing as we wrestled and fought for purchase. It still was a shock to my senses that I didn't have to be so painfully careful with her anymore. How nice it was to hold her as tightly as I'd always wanted.

She was strong, but either I was stronger or she let me win. I suspected it was the latter, but I soon had her pinned beneath me all the same. Though she didn't protest, I could detect a small amount of hesitation in her . Her expression had shifted to something more familiar – softer and more vulnerable. If she were a human, I swear she would be blushing.

"You caught me," she said breathlessly.

The statement was pointed, of course, especially considering the main goal of our little game of chase. Having already waited far too long to claim what was mine, I didn't waste any more time. I cupped her face in my hand and lowered my lips to hers.

The kiss was a slow, languid affair, like honey poured from a cooling jar, and it left me simultaneously satisfied and hungry for more. Soon I was kissing her like I was starving, needing more and more to maintain that level of satisfaction. I touched her hair, her face and body, intoxicated with her, all of my senses besieged. This was my wife – _my Bella_ – sweet and soft and loving as she weaved her fingers through my hair and kissed me back. How blind I'd been to what was so obviously right in front of me.

I wasn't certain how long we stayed there in the sand, intertwined with the waves lapping at our feet, but by the time our kisses slowed, I couldn't keep the words at bay any longer. "I love you," I whispered, clutching her tight against me. "I thought I'd lost you, but I was the one that got lost. I couldn't see you, Bella. _I couldn't see_."

She rubbed her face against my chest and sighed, seemingly just as overwhelmed by the moment as I was. "I got lost, too," she said, so quiet I could barely hear her over the sound of the ocean.

"We'll find our way back," I said as I kissed the top of her head. "I think we just covered most of the distance, and there's not much further to go at all. We'll go the rest of the way together, okay? I'm so sorry I've been lagging behind."

Drawing back, she smiled up at me and nodded. "I'll try not to run so fast next time."

"Shall we go inside now? I do believe we've ruined your nightgown."

She looked down at the wet silk, which was now encrusted with a layer of sand. "It suffered for a good cause."

The moon had set beyond the horizon by the time we got to our feet, proof of how long we'd stayed there. Slowly we walked back toward the cabin, leaving lazy footprints in the wet sand. We held hands and talked. I asked her question after question, in much the same way I had in the first few months of our acquaintance. Only this time, instead of inquiring after her favorite flower or gemstone, I asked about hunting and her growing control over her thirst. She answered with much the same modest hesitation I'd come to expect from her over the years. Why had I thought her so different now than she was as a human?

As we neared the cabin, I noticed something that pulled my attention briefly away from Bella. Letting go of her hand, I frowned and stepped forward to inspect the foundation of the cabin, which I had so disparaged upon our arrival earlier that evening.

Bella came up beside me and looked as well, trying to see what had captured my attention. "What's wrong?" she asked.

I kicked at the foundation. What I had thought to be a weak house built on nothing but sand was actually a strong foundation firmly seated on rock. I hadn't been able to see the careful craftsmanship earlier. Sand skittered off of the rock when I kicked it, but otherwise, it was unharmed even under the force of such a blow. Impressive, especially given my prior misgivings about the place.

"Nothing's wrong," I said to her. "This cabin is build considerably stronger than I thought it was - that's all. Strange. I didn't think it would last another winter, but I guess I was wrong." I turned to Bella and smiled as I held my hand out to her. "Come on, now. Let's go inside and get cleaned up."

As she stepped forward to take my hand, I found myself wondering if it would be redundant to ask my wife to marry me again. Somehow I didn't care.

***

The end.

Author's Note: As with my other stories, there was a considerable amount of symbolism in what you just read. Thank you, like_torches, for the beta read and encouragement. Ily. :)

I hope you liked this story, buried_alive55. Thank you so much for donating to Alex's Lemonade Stand!

Promised word count: 3,000  
Final word count (sans author's notes): ~10,000


End file.
